Four Essays
by acomplexgirlwithsimpletastes
Summary: In the final NEWT exam, Albus Dumbledore watches four students answer a question he himself had requested to be put in. What is love? Four students, four essays, and one delighted Professor.
1. Chapter 1

_To Tim, you deserve it. And Happy Birthday._

* * *

**Chapter One: The Test**

* * *

I have much influence in Ministry Tests.

I know it is wrong, but I used my influence in the Ministry tests that year. I simply asked them to include a single question.

I mostly asked it to teach four students something. So I stood, unseen, in the Examination Room, watching and waiting for their reactions.

They did not disappoint.

* * *

Sirius Black stretched lazily, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. He turned to his paper, his eyes skipping past previous answers, actually reviewing for… two seconds. Thereabout.

He was preparing to use a bit of his brainpower for this one, he mused, because it was the last question. The last question was worth a hundred points or something like that. He had heard Moony talking about it with Evans last week.

His eyes flitted over the page and he almost gagged.

_What is love? _

What kind of idiotic question was this? He thought incredulously. But he realized, sobering, that is wasn't a bad question. It might actually have some use, in life, to know what love was.

The only problem was that he really didn't have a clue.

* * *

Remus Lupin saw the question and chuckled. This had Dumbledore written all over it. It was a fitting parting gift from the Headmaster, a way to make the students think long and hard about one of the only things that would help them win this war. Very clever, really.

He took his quill and began to write.

* * *

Stupid question worth a stupid one hundred points, she cursed.

Lily Evans glared at the exam paper. She had prepared loads for this question, thinking about it over and over again. There were entire sections of books that talked about this question, speculating and calculating, and Lily herself had thought and decided on which topics would be the most likely be used, studying diligently. None of her thoughts or preparations could have trained her for this.

_What is love?_

Three words and ten letters. Three words and ten letters were to be her obliteration. But despite her brutal anger, she sighed and found herself returned into a halcyon state. It wasn't a bad question. It was actually an excellent question. It was a practical, well-thought out question that had a very important use in real life. Either that or the whim of some moron who had decided to torture the Seventh Years.

So she wasn't truly thinking when she wrote. She just wrote and wrote, letting her feelings pour out onto the paper.

It wasn't until she passed it that she realized that her essay was all about James.

* * *

James Potter stared at it.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

No, that was really the question.

He glanced at Remus, whose mouth was twisted into a slight smile, and Sirius whose brows were furrowed and he knew they had seen it too. He turned to look a bit at Lily, who was muttering unintelligible words under her breath. Just that image of her with her red hair twisted into a knot at the back of her neck to stay away from her face and that frown made his heart skip a beat.

He glanced back down at the question.

_What is love?_

It was so spot on it wasn't even funny. God, he was so whipped it wasn't even a joke anymore.

But he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, irritated. He'd better start writing and think about Lily Evans later. Heaven knew he'd thought about her enough the past three years.

* * *

A bodiless voice announced throughout the hall that the Exam was over. Papers magically flew from their desks, into the waiting hands of proctors who looked bored, and sitting side by side, four students sat, feeling winded.

And as papers flew, they all thought the same thing.

_I cannot believe __**I**__ wrote __**that**__._

* * *

What was going on here? Was the cosmos conniving against her to make her talk about that… that contumacious contender, that Potter? And what was with all these Cs?

She groaned. This was getting ridiculous. She really hated it when someone hampered her usually halcyon view of the world by being filled with hauteur. Especially when the said someone wasn't even filled with hauteur anymore. That ass. And now it was H. What was with her and the alphabet and Potter today?

"Miss Evans," a voice called.

She turned around to find the Headmaster looking at her kindly.

She smiled. The sight of the bespectacled blue eyed man with the slightly wrinkled face always cheered her up a little. There was something so safe about the man. "Hello, Headmaster."

"I was wondering if you could accompany me somewhere?"

* * *

The Marauders, she thought flatly. That's where he was taking her. Three of the four were present.

"Hello, Headmaster," Remus said, his pale brown hair flopping into his face. He smiled.

Sirius' hands were tucked into his pocket and a corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he drawled, "What's up, Albus?"

It was James who looked a bit down, Lily mused. His hair was all mussed up – more so than usual - and his eyes were looking rather crazed, jumping around between the four of them like he couldn't handle it right now. "Hey, Dumbledore." But of course she was only imagining things. What reason would James Potter have to be depressed? The bloke had everything anyone could ever want: good looks, good humor, charm, dozens of fan girls, money, influence, intelligence. He was even compassionate. Now that she really thought about it, James Potter was actually quite the catch.

"Hello." His eyes twinkled merrily. "I was wondering how you found the exam?"

They all chorused something along the lines of Fine.

"And the last question?"

"Interesting," Remus replied, eying the Headmaster speculatively.

Sirius coughed. "It was alright, I guess."

"Fine," James said flatly and Lily stared, because James Potter just didn't do angst. He just… didn't. It felt wrong somehow.

But then she realized Dumbledore was still talking and the three boys were looking rather squeamish. "…I will enjoy checking your papers very much."

"**What?**"

Lily looked around vaguely, wondering who on earth made such loud screeching noises when she realized --- oh. It was her.

The four stared at her and she felt herself heat up. "You're… you're going to be checking our papers, sir?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, smiling slightly. "I will. Do you have an interesting essay, Miss Evans?"

She was choking on words and all she could think was fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck and there was a shit in there somewhere, but it was mostly just fuck. This was… bad. Very, very bad.

Then Dumbledore had left and the three boys were staring at her warily.

"Fuck," she whispered and Remus started.

"Merlin, Lily, what did you write?"

But this time she ignored Remus and flew towards Alice. Alice, who, surely, would have something to say to comfort her, some soothing words or something, or anything, really except this fact that Dumbledore was going to read an essay of hers on love which was stamped James Potter, over and over and over again.

"**ALICE**! I **need** you!"

* * *

"You think she'll be okay?" James asked, still sane enough to worry about Lily, even if she was causing all this... this **crap**.

"Evans'll be fine, Prongs," Sirius said, clapping him on the back. "Don't turn into overprotective mother bear on me."

But Remus saw through it all and saw that James was tired. He would have said the words, but Sirius beat him to it. Sirius, it seemed, saw just as well as he did.

"James. She'll come around."

It almost made James smile, the expression on Sirius' face. Like he really didn't know, but really, really hoped.

"I hope so, Pad. I really do."

* * *

And in another corridor, there was a blue eyed man in spectacles who held four papers. "You'd be surprised, Mr. Potter. Very, very surprised, indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks so much for the reviews. Enjoy the story. _

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**Chapter 2: The Results**

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"Alice," Lily begged, starting to hyperventilate for the thirtieth or thirty-first time that week. Alice had already lost count. "I'm going to fail the Defense of the Dark Arts exam. I'm going to fail and I'm going to have to hand in my Head Badge and Potter will laugh like a maniac knowing the entire essay was all about him and that's why I failed."

Alice blinked and handed her best friend a paper bag. "Breathe, Lily. I honestly doubt any of those things are going to happen. And Potter – James," she corrected, "will not laugh like a maniac, because he really is quite sensible." She paused. "And I thought you didn't even mention his name."

Lily breathed into the bag. "I didn't. But he knows. He knows everything," Lily moaned, flopping down onto bed.

"Lily. I'm going to give you the talk one last time. You are **not** going to fail the DADA NEWT. That is as likely as… well, the least likely thing in the universe. It's impossible. You are **not** going to have to surrender your Head Badge. That, too, is ridiculous. And James will not laugh at you, because first the bloke does not know everything, and second, James Potter, no matter what you've deluded yourself into thinking, is **nice**."

Lily thought about it, turning a tad bit more rational. "It's improbable, but not impossible," she corrected. Then she brightened. "And what are the chances Potter will ever read that?" This seemed to cheer her up monumentally, Alice noted.

"Was it honestly that bad?"

"Let's put it this way. If Potter ever read that, he would only think of one fallacy. And he would actually be justified in thinking it, because I was a total moron when I wrote it."

"What did you write?" Alice asked curiously, not for the first time.

"Sorry, Alice. You're my best friend, but even you cannot read that essay."

"Why not?"

"Because it's stupid and irrational and has plenty of information that could potentially ruin my life."

"Histrionics, much?"

"Shut up, Alice," Lily laughed, poking her best friend. "And when something goes wrong with the test," she added seriously, "something like it being announced that the only people who failed was the Head Girl, I am out of there before you can say Potter's a peeve."

"Potter's not a peeve," Alice muttered, following her out of the room. "He's **nice**."

* * *

"How'd you think you guys fared?" Peter asked.

"I'm going to fail," three voices said simultaneously.

"It's not possible," Peter said, "that all of you will fail. This is your best subject, Prongs. And yours, too, Padfoot."

"Yes," Sirius muttered, "except I believe I used more than five different curse words and cursed my brother to the high heavens. And if I recall correctly, I think I said my family was a bunch of bastards." He think he might have shoved an insult to the education system somewhere in there, too.

"It's not probable," James corrected. "But it's possible."

"Here we go," Remus said, before stepping into the Great Hall.

* * *

"The Seventh Years are anxious," Dumbledore announced, "so let us finish it."

And the Seventh Years were anxious. Most of them were tense with anticipation, rigid in their seats. The tension in the air was almost palpable.

Then the Headmaster smiled. "You all passed."

Everyone cheered. People threw papers in the air and the entire Seventh Year was screaming and jumping up and down. Save four.

"It doesn't necessarily mean we didn't fail DADA, it just means that we passed overall and what good will that be to me if I want to become an Auror?" James hissed.

"But," Dumbledore stressed, "I am especially happy to tell you that four people perfected an exam."

A hush grew over the hall.

An exam was five hundred points and lasted only for three hours. Countless essays, mind boggling questions, but worse than that was the final question, worth one hundred points. No one had perfected an exam since… well, Dumbledore -- of course, and Tom Riddle. Voldemort.

So four people perfecting an Exam was… unheard of.

Dumbledore nodded at McGonagall. "I am pleased to announce that all four students who perfected the test are from the Griffindor House." Some swore she was smirking, but others said it was a trick of the light.

"My utmost congratulations to --- Sirius Black!"

Loud clapping was heard throughout the hall and Sirius was looking rather stoned when Remus laughed and said, "Congratulations, Padfoot."

"Who knew you had brains, Pad?" James teased, clapping him on the back.

"Oh. So I didn't imagine it, after all," Sirius mumbled.

"And the second… Remus Lupin!"

"No way!" Abigail, one of Lily's friends, said, hugging her boyfriend. "Congratulations, Rem!"

"Good work. Moony," James said with a smirk, as Remus began making out with Abby in the middle of the Great Hall.

"Lily Evans!" McGonnagal bellowed.

"HA!" Alice screamed. "See, Lily? I told you so," she said, hugging her best friend and jumping up and down repeatedly, Griffindors cheering for their third nerd.

"And finally… James Potter!"

James stared at his hands and ignored all the happiness and cheering around him. "Looks like the old man's rooting for me," he chuckled to himself.

"Now, with this happy news, let the feast -- begin!" Dumbledore said happily and with a swish of his hands, food appeared on all the House Tables, leaving everyone to chatter about the results.

* * *

As the feast ended, four students received a message from the Headmaster. They were to come to his office. Immediately.

* * *

"What now?" Lily groaned as the Third Year scurried away.

"Scaring away children, now, Evans?" Sirius said, walking up to her, with Remus and James following closely behind him.

"I think she got scared of you, Sirius," Lily snapped back.

"Relax, Tiger Lily," Sirius said, raising his eyebrows. "You think you'd be happy about this. What'd you write in the essay?"

Lily kept her mouth shut, sure that she was about to explode. There was no chance she was ever going to tell anyone what she had written in her essay. Except for Dumbledore, not a soul would be told. There was no chance. No chance in hell.

* * *

As it turns out, hell had frozen over and the universe connived. Score one for the universe, zero for Lily Evans.

"No."

"Absolutely not," James agreed.

"No way, Albus," Sirius proclaimed, although his right hand was twitching, like he'd like to grab the papers, and run away with them. Straight into the Griffindor Common Room to be chucked into the fire.

Remus looked calm as he smiled.

"Nothing," the three chorused. Lily's voice went up an octave, the voice she used when she was lying, Sirius was clenching and unclenching a hand and James' face was blank. The only telltale indication he was even feeling something was that he was gripping his wand.

Remus smiled slowly. There was something feral in that smile, no matter how amused he was. It screamed that Remus was dangerous, if he wanted to be. Very dangerous. "You're all pretty worked up about nothing," he commented casually.

"Remus," Lily hissed. "He," she pointed a finger at James, "cannot read my essay."

"And she cannot read my essay." James' voice left no question about why not. He was **pissed** and Remus knew it. All the better, Remus mused, to push him over the edge. Maybe then something good would come from this.

"And you cannot read my essay," Sirius muttered.

Dumbledore cleared his throats and all four teens felt embarrassed. "Sorry, sir," they mumbled.

He smiled at them. "I do understand that you are… reluctant to allow the others to read your essays, except for you, Mr. Lupin, but I believe… that it will be worth it. The repercussions of this will do everyone much good."

Without another word, he handed James Lily's essay, Lily James' essay, Sirius Remus' essay and Remus Sirius' essay.

And they began to read.

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_I probably don't deserve it, but how about a tiny review? :)_

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Edited on July 2009


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Better late than never. I guess I confused some people, but this is an edited version of Four Essays. I might post up the old version again, if some people want to see it, but for now, enjoy this. And - ThankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU for all the reviews.

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**Chapter 3: The Reactions**

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Remus was on the verge of laughing, and laughing loud. Sirius was inching away from him, anxious to get out of the room, a scowl plastered on his face. His best friend was not a heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy. He was sarcastic and loud when he wanted to be, true, but, generally, Sirius liked to keep everything bottled up inside him, until he imploded or exploded. Usually to the person unfortunate enough to push him past the edge.

Remus was wise, which was exactly why he saw all these things.

So he wasn't surprised when Lily ran, because Lily ran away from the one thing she could not, no matter how hard she tried, understand. None of her books or her intelligence could help her here. He also wasn't surprised when James, always running and running and never giving up the only thing that could ever make him happy, ran after her.

And he wasn't surprised either, when Dumbledore seemed to have conveniently disappeared. "So."

"Don't." Sirius' voice was dangerous, but he pushed anyway. Sirius would lash out with words and occasionally with fists or hell, even magic, but he wasn't going to seriously injure one of his best friends. Usually.

"Padfoot, you do keep all those emotions locked in you, don't you?"

"Shut it, Moony," Sirius snarled.

He chuckled. "I never knew you felt so much."

"Moony. Shut the fuck up."

"Just tell me – how long?"

"I don't know. Forever, maybe," Sirius said sarcastically. "Now shut up about it before I make you."

But it was more of a grumbling, now, and Remus knew that this was their way. Sirius might never say it in those words, and James would simply acknowledge them with actions, and Peter was only quiet but blindly devoted, but they knew. And just because they never said it, it didn't mean it wasn't any less true.

They never said it, but they felt it. They loved.

* * *

James ran, his black sneakers making almost no sound on the corridor. He kept saying her name over and over again, but she just kept running. Running away. From him. Wasn't this enough proof?

And then she tripped.

At moments like this, time did not slow. Time was the same, but you – you were faster. All he could see was her, and the way her shoe had caught on a pebble, and how she stumbled forward, hands put out, trying to break her fall. With a final burst of speed, he lunged.

His arms wrapped around her waist and turned, so that she fell on top of him and he hit the hard floor.

The only sound in the corridor was their heavy breathing. Lily pushed him away, lightly, so that she was about a foot away from him. That just did it. He was just so sick of this. So, so sick. He stood up and would have walked away, except he couldn't. It was like this girl was the sun and all he could do was spin around her.

He held out a hand and she hesitated before she took it.

When she stood up he looked at her. And then he walked away.

"James."

He didn't turn. "What?"

* * *

Her voice wavered. "Why'd you – why'd you write that?"

He laughed harshly. "Why'd I write that? You know why, Evans. Don't pretend you don't."

"Yeah," she found herself muttering. "Yeah, I do."

He spun around then and glared at her. She shrank back. He might not have ever been scary to her, but she sort of understood now why so many people were afraid of James Potter. He was scary – just… just never scary with her. Never hurting her. Never doing anything but petting her and taking care of her and helping her with head duties and making her laugh when she felt depressed and –

"Why do you do this, Lily?" His voice was like thunder, crackling and – **furious**.

"What?" she said, defensive now. She wasn't even **doing** anything. If there was anyone who could get under her skin like no one else, it was James bloody Potter.

"Why do you string me around like you're a fucking puppeteer who can just toy with other people's emotions?"

"I – I didn't – I didn't do that," Lily mumbled, looking away from his accusing gaze. Why was she feeling guilty? Did she ask him to read her essay? Did she ask him to write those things? No and no. So what was with this thing eating into her stomach and making her want to hurl?

"Really." His voice cut and dripped with sarcasm. "So I suppose all that you wrote in that essay was all just – **fake**?"

She winced.

"Who else, Lily, makes you laugh when you're depressed? Gave you a thousand daisies on your birthday? Danced with you in the rain? Gave you really creepy love letters? Held your hand? Wrote you notes? Helped you with your homework?"

In the middle of his little rant, she had looked up and felt ashamed. Humiliated. After all he had done for her, she still did not want to admit it. Not to James or to Alice or to anyone else, or even to herself. She didn't want anyone to know that she had finally fallen in love with James Potter.

James was not nice.

James was brilliant and shone and amazing and James was – James was **everything**. "No one."

"Yes. I thought so. Can you honestly deny, Lily, that everything in your mind was me? Can you deny that I got into your head?"

Her voice felt scratchy. She could not deny that James was everything she thought love was and she was the same to him, and didn't that just say something about how sick and true and amazing this was? "No."

He deflated right before her eyes. "Yes. But it doesn't change anything, does it?" He looked away. "I'm sorry, Lily."

And she was reaching out –

* * *

"Wait," Lily called, tripping in her haste.

"You trip a lot," James said as he reached out an arm to catch her.

"Yes." She swallowed uncomfortably and looked rather angry, James noted. "Yes. I fall a lot."

"You just said that," James pointed out, tightening his grip on her waist.

"I know. That's just it. I know. And I hate it. I hate falling." She was angry. "But I like it, too. I don't even **know** what's happening to me anymore, and I hate this feeling. Sometimes, I can't even **think** anymore, James. I can't even think anymore, because all I can think about is **you**. And do you know how sick that is?" she demanded, furious. "I can't even concentrate on life sometimes, because you just – you just get under my skin all the time. All the time and I **hate** it.

"You're all I see, anymore. All I see and feel, James. Whether it's because I'm mad at you or ignoring you or panicking about you – it's all just **you**. And I hate it."

He didn't know why she was angry. But it was more like she was talking to herself than talking to him. Then she was.

"But I think – I think I know already. I think I know." And she was hesitant, before she flared right up again. "James Potter, why do you always have to get what you want?" Lily demanded, flushing. Her green eyes sparked.

"**What**?" Why was he in love with this irritating girl who wasn't entirely sensible?

"What do you mean 'What'?" she demanded. "Are you **dense**?"

James Potter was not dense. He wasn't even remotely close to stupid. He was actually a genius. But there was one thing – one person, who could throw all his common sense and logic straight out the window. There was one girl who could make him desperately confused.

Luckily, he wasn't for much longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Er. I know. The editing took so much longer than expected. (coughprocrastinationcough) But. Yeah. Here's the final, and hopefully improved, chapter of Four Essays. :) Feedback is always appreciated.**

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**Chapter 4: Repercussions**

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I suppose I should tell you what happened That Morning. Of course, I have no intention of telling you who my source was. It was not a teacher, because teachers do **not** gossip.

That Morning Lily Evans and James Potter entered the Great Hall together. For girls out there who will undoubtedly find this piece of information helpful, James Potter was holding two backpacks instead of one. They sat down and while Lily read a book, James asked her what kind of jam she'd like on her toast. She replied strawberry and he gave her toast with blueberry, and, much to the intense shock of everyone around them, he fed it to her.

To which she then grabbed the piece of toast from him and told him she could eat her own toast, thank you very much. James looked rather miffed, apparently, although when she smiled at him in her Lily way, they said he just looked at her in adoration.

They did this every morning for the next two years.

James Potter is a strange character. He had so much brilliance and genius and could have done anything he wanted. He was a prodigy. So he chose to do exactly what he wanted. He became an Auror and married Lily Evans.

Lily Evans… there are so many ways to tell you about her kindness, her compassion, her intelligence, her anger, unmatched by anyone, except James. There are so many words that can be used to paint her character, and at the same time there are none. Sometimes, words fail.

Apart, they were already brilliant. Together – together, they were something else.

James and Lily Potter are, to put it simply, predestined. They are a clear example of magic in its purest form. They are a clear example of love.

Sirius Black, as you all know, was framed and entered Azkaban. He's the only person I know who ever escaped without outside help, and if I could name the Top Five People I Admired The Most, Sirius would be one of them. His capacity to love is astounding and despite appearances, Sirius will – and did – fight to the death for those he loved.

Remus Lupin is one of the bravest people I know. Life had dealt him so many harsh blows, but he continued to live and love. He never, not once, gave up his faith in the inherent goodness of people. It takes an unbelievable strength to believe when everything else is failing around you. Remus was strong enough. He always was.

Peter Pettigrew fell. He was not strong enough to fight back the evil in the world, and many, including me sometimes, despise him. But sometimes, I cannot help but remember the innocent and loyal boy, the one with pale blue eyes who would do anything for his friends. I cannot help but remember, and pity.

The Marauders grew, as people did, and they remained brothers from the time they entered their First Year until they graduated in their Seventh. They were loyal and brave, strong and loving. They are remembered in Hogwarts for their mischievousness and brilliance at pranks, rivaled only by the Weasely brothers. They are remembered.

If you walk down the shelves of the library, somewhere in the Restricted Section, there is an old mahogany shelf. At the very bottom, on the very right side, if you look hard enough, you will see the engraving

_Pranksters, and Brothers, Always: Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail_

I discovered it a few years back, and whenever I need a small cheer, I pass by, and I remember.

And the essays? On the right hand drawer of my rickety desk, there are four yellowed papers. Whenever I need a reminder of the goodness of man, I read them. And I smile.

* * *

What is love?

When I first saw the question, I admit I balked. What kind of messed up, pathetic excuse for a question was this? Also, this isn't exactly something you can bullshit your way out of.

I suppose I could tell you who I love, if that's worth anything.

Usually this would start off with some sentimental twat about your family, but the truth is that I couldn't care less about those heartless bastards. And bitches, if you count my mother, my aunts and a few psychotic cousins.

But I love the Marauders. They are my brothers, even if I'll never tell them. I swear on my life, I'd die for Lily if it made James happy, because he values her above all else. I'd like to kill anyone who makes a derogatory remark about Remus' condition, because Remus does not deserve that. And I will protect Peter, because he needs it. I will never tell them to their faces – I'd rather die a million painful deaths than tell them – but it's safe to say they know. I'm sure they know.

Because I'll let James prod through my things and mess it all up, not bothering to fix it.' I'll let Remus hurl all over my bed and clean it up myself. I'll let Peter stutter his way through half the things he says. If anyone else did that, I'd punch them in the face before they could say, 'Fuck,' grab them and force them to clean up their mess and tell the moron to hurry the fuck up. So they know.

I suppose I love Evans, too. She's so much a part of James that she's already part of us. Even if she doesn't know it yet. But she will, one day.

There's one more person, and I can't believe that ass is even in my head. Although we did have a few good times together, bastard that he's turning out to be. I guess blood sometimes is thick. Thick enough to overcome hatred. I love my brother, Regulus. He's weak, and spineless, sometimes, but he is my brother and time will not have changed that. I hope he will be able to save himself someday. I hope one day he'll give me a chance to help him.

What is love? I guess I do know, after all. Love is a messed up emotion that makes you do the craziest things. Love is love. Redundant, maybe, but it's more than enough.

* * *

Elizabeth Browning once said, "Love doesn't make the world go round, love is what makes the ride worthwhile."

That's all I know about love, really, and I know that it's true. You can spend your whole life looking for acceptance, being shunned continuously, and even if, I suspect, it's only in your final days, or just for a few days that you experience it, it makes everything worthwhile. It is worth everything. Love is worth dying for, worth living for.

I suspect that a few sentences for a hundred point question on a final exam makes for a rather low score. Strangely, I can't find myself to care.

It's enough to have said that I have loved and been loved in return.

* * *

T_he dictionary definition of love is 'an intense feeling of deep affection.' There are other variations, too, I'm certain: 'romantic or sexual attachment,' 'a great interest and pleasure in something'. But no matter how many times you try to word it, nothing will ever be enough._

_Because love is not something that can be described using mere words. It's something you feel. It takes over you, consumes you, makes you into something that you never thought you would to be, or could be. It makes you desperate, it makes you ecstatic, it makes you play the part of a fool._

_Love is what we need in the world today. In such dark times, love gives you everything you need to live. It gives you a reason to wake up every morning and try. To survive means that you are alive, but to love is when you truly live._

_Love is miraculous, love is unconditional, love is everything._

_Love is what I feel for Lily Evans. Love is what I want from Lily Evans._

_And if you know me, those two sentences summarize love so well that it's pathetic. I've chased her around since Third Year, and I fell in love with her in Fourth Year. Or at least, I realized that I fell in love with her in Fourth Year. Just like that: I didn't even get to choose. I loved her, even before I consciously knew. Oh, the irony._

_I do things everyday to show her how much I love her, but she never believes me. But I persist, because you don't give love up. If you have it, you cling on to it like a lifeline, because it is the most important thing in the world._

_But I have a strange feeling that being loved in return would be a million times better._

* * *

**"Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is never envious or arrogant with pride. She is never resentful, is never glad with sin, but always glad to side with the truth. She bears up under everything, believes the best in all. There is no limit to her hope, and she will never fall." That's the definition of love in the bible.**

**My definition is quite like that, but love's so hard to explain.**

**Love is little things combined. It's when someone does little things for you to make you happy; it's when people give small considerations because they know that it will please you. Love doesn't have to be about big gestures or wild protestations of devotion. Love is about holding hands, or getting up early to remind them of things. Love is helping with homework, giving them flowers or small presents simply because you wanted to. Love is small dances at midnight; love is notes that say I love you, randomly, because you just want to say it. Love is calls that say I miss you, letters that say I wish you were here and mean it. Love is when every moment counts, and every look means the world. Love is a smile brightening your day, to make you look forward to waking up in the morning. Love is fights where someone tells you that you're wrong, because he thinks you deserve to know the truth. Love is when someone gives up, because he knows he's wrong. Love is a dozen red roses and a hundred daisies on Valentine's Day. Love is off key songs, and really scary, stupid poems.**

**Love is a beacon in the world, a source of light and happiness. Love is confusing and messy, and love is not simple but it's the best thing to have in this world.**

**Love is perfect, and love is everything you need, and love… well, love is probably the best thing you can give someone, and no doubt the best thing to receive in return. Love is the most powerful thing in the world.**

**Love is magic.**

* * *

I never forgot them.

The world remembers Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin for numerous things, some infamous, some terribly brave and some unthinkable miracles. Professors remember them as intelligent pranksters and wonderfully amusing, fellow students remember them as hilarious and kind, some teachers of theirs call them dedicated and strong willed.

But I remember them most in that day, as a delighted professor, who read four essays, from four students, on what they thought love was.


End file.
